


W.W.N.V.D.

by orphan_account



Series: Some Type of Love [4]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Humor, M/M, Romance, There's like one kiss and it lasts a sentence, kidnappings, none of that sad shit tho, there's also a bit o' killin'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 18:10:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5880703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He might not have known what time it was or how long they had been waiting, but MacCready was definitely positive that he would much rather be in bed, asleep and not out in the cold at the dead of night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	W.W.N.V.D.

**Author's Note:**

> I promise the title makes sense.

He might not have known what time it was or how long they had been waiting, but MacCready was definitely positive that he would much rather be in bed, asleep and not out in the cold at the dead of night. Stifling a yawn into his elbow, he leaned back against one of the many old, rusted cars they were using for cover and heaved out a sigh. Logan ignored him, crouched in a position to where he could peer over the car’s hood at the camp beyond it.

This was the third kidnapping in just over one month, Logan had explained to him as they waited earlier that evening. The first was handled by a Minutemen recruit, and it had seemed to be just a group of Raiders’ way of making a few quick caps, but the parents of the girl that was taken hadn’t been offered a ransom. Then, the second kidnapping happened nearly a week after and it was never resolved. Logan had already been looking into that one when the there was word of a third.

“It can’t be the Institute,” Logan had said, thinking out loud mostly but MacCready still listened. “There’s no replacement synths. Raiders aren’t this organized  -  or clean.”

“Sounds like hired guns to me,” MacCready stated, and Logan nodded his agreement.

“Sure, yeah, but finding out who hired them and why they want people kidnapped could be,” the vaultie squinted one eye and tilted his head, “Kinda difficult.”

A silence had fallen between them, the only noise being the gentle breeze and the rumbling of the four men that had stationed themselves by the campfire. MacCready hadn’t even realized he let himself doze off until Logan spoke again.

“Okay, so here’s the plan.” Somehow, without the merc noticing, Logan had changed out of his vault suit and into an outfit MacCready had only seen once before, the faded jeans and leather jacket that had once belonged to Kellogg. To complete the look, hooked onto the collar of his white undershirt was a pair of sunglasses, courtesy of Deacon, most likely. “I’m gonna go over there, act like I’m looking for work, tell them I caught wind of what they’re doing from, like,  raiders or something  -  I don’t know. While I do that, you make your way up there,” He pointed toward the top of the hill and MacCready turned his head to find a small, wood shack. It was up high enough that it was bound to have a view of the entire camp below and probably beyond the two hills they were nestled in between, perfect for a sniper’s nest.

“Right, got it.”

Logan grabbed his wrist, pressing a lighter into the palm of his hand. “Take this. It’s pretty hard to see up there, but I only counted one guy. Once you take care of that, flick that a few times to where I can see it so I know you’re in position. After I’ve gotten everything I can out of these guys, I’ll give you The Signal.” He said the last two words with heavy emphasis and it took MacCready only a second to remember why.

He blinked down at the silver flip lighter, processing what had been told to him. “Wait, wait, how am I supposed to ‘ _take care of that_ ’?”

“Quietly,” the other replied with a little grin. He pulled the sunglasses off from his shirt and slid them over his eyes dramatically  -  something else he probably picked up from Deacon. “Move out,” he muttered lowly, a stony expression on his face. He dropped it momentarily to lean forward and press a quick kiss on MacCready’s lips. He leaned back and whispered a cheery, “Catch you on the flip side, Rob,” before moving out from behind the car.

MacCready let out a quiet, aggravated sigh before adjusting his rifle, using the strap to hang it over his shoulder and let it rest as a comfortable weight against his back. Keeping close to the ground, he started his way up the hill, looping out far enough to where the men at the fire wouldn’t see him. It was a slow moving process, but distance in the dark helped, and the grass was thicker on his side of the hill, which softened the sound of his footsteps. Besides that, it gave Logan more time to wiggle his way into the mercenaries’ hearts. MacCready appreciated the fact that Logan could probably punch the head off of a ghoul with a single right-hook, but nothing impressed MacCready more than how he could talk his way in and out of any situation. It took time, though, and he was willing to give that to him if it meant getting them both out of there.

By the time he neared the shack, the mumbling of the group below could be heard, but it wasn’t loud enough to where he could make out what they were saying. That had to be good; no yelling meant no fighting. MacCready took a deep breath and covered the rest of the way quickly, stopping at the doorway.

The interior was pretty basic for a makeshift lookout. A single mattress was pushed to the far corner of the room, a cooler sitting next to the bed  -  probably filled with chems. He spotted a pack of smokes and a combat knife on top of a small table that sat near the entryway. MacCready leaned forward slowly and grabbed the blade, then turned his attention to the man who sat on watch. He was smaller than the other four men down the hill, which was probably why they had stationed him up here. Anything likely to attack you  -  raiders, super mutants, _giant insects_  -  would attack head on. He’d be able to see them coming, warn his buddies, and manage to stay alive up in his little safe haven. So, the watchman sat dutifully at attention, his back to MacCready.

He calculated his steps carefully as to not make the wood planks underneath him creak and inched his way closer, fingers flexing around the handle of the stolen knife. Once the man was close enough to touch, MacCready surged forward and covered the guy’s mouth with his unarmed hand so he couldn’t scream. The guy reached up, scratching at MacCready’s arm and tried to pull him away, but the sniper practically threw all of his weight back in order to keep his hand locked in position. He forced the blade into the man’s chest then, pressing down hard until he felt him go limp. The body slid from the chair and hit the floor, the _thunk_ sound making MacCready shudder. He had always told everyone that he used a rifle because he didn’t want to take the chance of fighting at close range. That was very true, but the noises of death were always unsettling and he’d rather stay far away from them if he could.

The watchman had nothing valuable on him, just some Jet and Fancy Lad Snack Cakes. Not really expecting much anyway, MacCready took up the dead man’s place at the open window and fished out the lighter Logan had given him from his pocket. His eyes landed on the group down below, the four men on one side of the campfire and Logan on the other. They had their weapons out but none of them were aimed at the vaultie. MacCready leaned back in the chair with a sigh of relief and raised the lighter high enough so it can be seen, flicking the flame to life three times. From where he sat, Logan’s smile was easy to see, but he couldn’t tell if it was for him or if he was still playing along with the others, because the other men were laughing, too. MacCready pocketed the lighter anyway, shrugging his rifle off his shoulder and settling into a comfortable position.

As he stared down the scope, he strained his ears to pick up on what they were saying. He slowed his breathing and focused on their voices, only barely picking up on them.

“  -  because you look like you could be useful in a firefight. He’d wanna meet ya,” a man said. He seemed to be the ring leader. MacCready based that assumption purely because he was the only one of them that was wearing a hat.

“‘Member I’m only interested if there’s caps involved,” MacCready heard Logan state. He had seemed to be retaining the lower, raspier voice from their hodge podge planning session from earlier, as if he were acting out a part. MacCready snorted softly, shaking his head with a fond smile. What an idiot.

“Ah, you don’ gotta bitch about that,” Hat Man assured him, waving a hand as if it were absurd to worry. “There’s a reward every time we bring some sorry soul in. Where are you coming from anyway? The boss is pretty strict on who we take to meet him. Likes to know backgrounds.”

Logan shrugged, adjusting one of the fingerless gloves he was wearing to appear nonchalant. “Mostly a freelancer, y’know? Taking any job that pays. Followed a bunch of Raiders for a while. Ran with a guy named Sinjin.”

“I’ve heard o’ him!” Hat Leader exclaimed and MacCready lined his head up in his sights, “He, uh, he got snuffed by some weirdo in a superhero costume, right?”

“Yeah, that’s him. Got his brains blown out by the Silver Shroud.” Logan pressed his first two fingers against his temple to mock a gun, making a gunshot noise as he pretended to fire it.

MacCready took the shot, the man’s head exploded into several pieces, his hat falling to the ground before the rest of his body. The three other men jumped in surprise, one screamed, and Logan’s pistol seemingly materialized in his hand. The vaultie fired off three shots into the torso of another one of the guys and MacCready took care of the third with a slug in the shoulder. Logan caught the final with the butt of his gun, and he dropped as dead weight. Huffing out a relieved breath, MacCready let his shoulders slump and he lowered his rifle. Everything went better than expected.

By the time he made his way back down the hill to meet up with the other, Logan had already finished searching the men’s pockets. “Find anything useful on ‘em?”

Logan shrugged. “Just a little bit of ammo.”

“We splitting it?” He asked with a smirk.

“Ch’yeah, totally.”

MacCready scanned the camp. “Not very impressive. Don’t think they were here for that long.”

“No,” Logan agreed. “They said they were in the process of moving farther up north and they got lucky with the spot. They weren’t here long at all.”

“So where’s the girl?”

The vaultie didn’t respond right away, examining all of the cars and garbage that littered the ground around them. He nodded toward one, an old army cargo truck that got left behind pre-war, and headed toward it. The latch was held shut with an old-school padlock and it took only seconds for Logan to pick his way through it. With the sliding door as rusted as it was, it took a few tugs for him to pull it open. MacCready stood a few yards back silently, watching on with his rifle at the ready. Who knows what could be in there? These guys could have been crazy enough to herd a pack of wild mongrels in the back of that truck.

The door slid back and revealed a girl, only about sixteen or seventeen years old. She looked miserable, like she hadn’t been fed in days and had tear-tracks running down her face. Despite all of this, however, she appeared to be absolutely _livid_. From where she was huddled in the corner, she lunged at Logan and slammed her fists into his chest.

“Get the hell away from me,” she screamed. Logan grabbed hold of her wrists and that made her start kicking at his knees. “Let me go, you bitch! I’ll kill you!”

Logan extended his arms and locked his elbows, holding her far enough so she couldn’t land any of her swings. “Hey, hey, relax,” he requested, his voice maintaining a soothing pitch that actually seemed to calm the girl enough so she could hear his explanatory ‘your mom was worried, she sent us to go looking for you’.

“Mom did? _My_ mom?” She asked incredulously. Sniffing, she let her arms go limp and Logan released her wrists so they fell to her sides. “My mom wouldn’t’ve left the house to ask for help, too afraid of her own shadow.”

MacCready snorted. ‘Afraid of her own shadow’ was underselling it maybe. When they had arrived at the settlement that had given Preston word of needing help, MacCready hadn’t been expecting much. He never did. It kept him sane. After they had walked up the stairs to the patio, stopping at the front door  -  Logan even going out of his way to politely knock instead of inviting himself in  -  and were greeted with the barrel of a shotgun instead of a ‘hello’, MacCready learned that it was probably best to expect anything and not much at the same time. It took nearly a half hour of Logan’s consoling  -  and MacCready asking why they don’t just leave if she doesn’t want them  -  there until the woman lowered her weapon and believed they were there to help.

“She must care about you enough if she accepted a stranger’s help,” Logan said, conveniently leaving the bit out where the mom had tried to kill them. “What’s your name?”

“Poppy Miller,” The girl answered, crossing her arms over her chest like she was cold. Acting tough even though she was pretty shaken up. MacCready could relate to that. “Call me Miller, though. Can’t survive a place like this with the name Poppy.”

“I’m Logan,” the vaultie replied, gesturing to himself and then MacCready behind him, “That’s Rob.“

“ _MacCready_ ,” he corrected, but Logan paid him no attention. Miller raised her brow at the exchange but didn’t say anything about it.

“We’re gonna take you home back to your mom. But first, I want you to tell me anything and everything about those guys who kidnapped you.” He paused and then added, “If that’s okay.”

Miller shrugged, and garbled out, “They didn’t talk to me much.” She cleared her throat and looked away from them, taking a few calming breaths. “Um, all they said was that they had to make it to Irish Pride by Tuesday, or something. They were really worried they weren’t going to make it.”

“Irish Pride?” Logan’s brow furrowed, “I don’t think I’ve heard of it.”

“I have,” MacCready said, offering the vaultie a shrug when he turned to stare. “It was one of the places we holed up when I was with the Gunners. It’s some old shipping factory, pretty sure it’s infested with mirelurks.”

“Pretty sure?” Logan repeated.

“Yeah. Remember when I said, ‘holed up’?”

“Wait,” Miller interrupted, eyes wide and boring into MacCready’s. “You run with the Gunners?”

“No,” Logan said the same time MacCready replied with, “Not anymore.” That left them in an awkward silence, leaving Logan to break it with a long and drawn out, “Anyway.” Miller turned her attention back to him. “Did they say what was there?”

She shook her head, “No, it wasn’t like that. It was just a landmark, like, a checkpoint. The guy said if they didn’t make it to Pride, they’d never make it on time.” Miller ran a shaky hand through her thick curls, brushing them off her forehead. She stared at her fingers for a moment, eyes shining. “Did you, um, did you kill ‘em all?” Logan nodded and she shuddered out a breath. “One of them was my neighbor,” she explained. “Mom traded with him, he’d give us water for Ma’s carrots and tatos. He seemed so normal. Well, as normal as one can be.” Her lips quirked up in a sad smile. She shook her head, “I just can’t believe he’d do this to me.”

“You ready to go home?” Logan inquired softly.

“Might as well,” Miller relented with a sigh.

“Alright. Just give me a second, yeah?” He turned his back to her and walked passed MacCready in the direction of the kidnappers’ dead bodies. MacCready followed, not sparing the girl an explanation or even a look.

“What now?” MacCready asked. “The girl didn’t have anything useful and I doubt these guys gave you exact coordinates to their home base.”

“Not true,” Logan retorted, leaning over the corpse of the man whose face he smashed in with his gun. “First off, we know it’s farther north than Irish Pride. Second  -  “ From one of the pockets in the dead man’s coat, he pulled out a set of house keys. “We’ve got a lead. This guy is bound to have something in his house that’ll tell us where to go next.” He jangled them in MacCready’s face before stuffing them in his own pocket. “W.W.N.V.D., man, never forget.”

“What?”

“W.W.N.V.D. What Would Nick Valentine Do?” He grinned when MacCready groaned and rolled his eyes. “It’s a motto I live by, honestly.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very tired.
> 
> Okay, so, it's not beta'd so all of the mistakes are mine. There might be a lot because my 'O' key isn't working some of the time. Very disheartening.
> 
> Not sure if I want to add to this or not, because this was mostly testing out Rob and Logan out on the field. Anywho, comment if you like, comment if you don't, comment if you see something wrong, comment with your favorite color. Also, I'm part of the tumblering world [here](http://gearyoak.tumblr.com/). It's pretty a pretty boring place. Drop an ask if you have a question about Logan, or even if you wanna talk about your Sole Survivors. I love it all.


End file.
